


The Sun, the Moon, and the Truth

by neverminetohold



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because Thor and Loki deserve good things, Family, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, My Ideal "Thor" AU, Possibly Pre-Slash, Pre-Canon, Slash, Told in Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” ~ Buddha</p><p>OR: The one where Loki is, against all odds, a happy camper, because he has the one thing he always wanted...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Land of Eternal Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildAndFreeHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/gifts).



The great temple fell last, long after Gungnir had torn the skies open, raining death down on those who dared to oppose the Allfather's might and reign.  
  
The fleeing tripped over those that had been slain in droves, their screams no longer full of battle rage, but pain. Odin watched as they ran, the hollow of his once hale eye throbbing viciously and muscles burning with exertion, warring with the exhilarating rush only victory brought.  
  
His gaze wandered skyward, to take in the dome of lovingly sculptured ice. Troops King Laufey must have known he could not afford to spare had protected it with fierce determination, long after any hope to prevail had been lost.  
  
Curiosity guided Odin's feet inside, through double-winged doors and over the curve of a bridge that spanned a yawning abyss, and opened the only path leading to the altar.  
  
Drops of melting ice fell from high above, ringing like silver bells, an endless hymn of prayer, its notes dictated by the tune of slow decay. Their echoes got caught between the pillars that supported the ceiling, engraved with murals in shades of blue, inlaid with gold.  
  
The solid block that formed the altar was free of offerings, except for a bundle of fabric that started to move with the kicking of feet, and from which rose the cooing of a babe as Odin drew near.  
  
His blood-caked hand careful, Odin parted the cloak the child was wrapped in, revealing smooth blue skin and crimson eyes. It seemed too tiny for a Frost Giants offspring, a runt, perhaps even sickly, yet it had not been abandoned in the wilderness to meet a harsh fate.  
  
Odin had no need to wonder why, the answer apparent. He felt it, loud and clear, the magic that thrummed in the child’s body, wild and untamed, not yet molded by thought and choice and deed.  
  
One eye he had given in exchange for wisdom, thus while compassion did indeed move his heart, Odin's mind calculated, sought the branching path that led towards an uncertain future, and only then made his decision.  
  
He stepped outside to meet his army, a babe held securely in the cradle of his arms, and no one laying eye on it doubted it had been stolen in one of the raids that had terrorized Asgard for months, but would no more.


	2. Brothers

Thor destroyed the castle made of wooden blocks in a fit of temper, his patience running thin. His fingers curled into a tight fist, hiding his palm that smarted from the slap. He didn't understand. What had he done wrong for his parents to ignore him for hours, leaving him to his own devices and in the care of servants?  
  
A soft knock echoed in his rooms, filled with books he never touched and toys he loved, lavish furniture and rich tapestries. Silence fell as the person outside waited, not daring to enter one of the royal quarters without permission or special cause.  
  
“Come in,” Thor called, and scowled when his voice sounded both thin and sullen. He did not turn to greet the maid, knowing she would bow and avoid to meet his eyes, even though he was only a child. “What is it?”  
  
“Her Highness Queen Frigga wishes to see you, my prince.”  
  
She had not finished and Thor was already out the door, barely avoiding to keep to his feet instead of tripping on the fabric of her mauve dress that pooled on the marble around her. He ran down the corridor as fast he could, making his entrance into his mother's private rooms a loud and rash one.  
  
“Thor!”  
  
Queen Frigga looked upon her eldest with fond exasperation that soon turned a little desperate as the babe in her arm, just settled in to slumber, woke with a piercing cry of protest.  
  
Thor stood and stared at his mother, holding a little bawling bundle, shushing it with a tender smile he had only ever seen directed towards himself or his father. It had become a rare sight, now that Asgard was filled with hushed conversations and the ordered chaos of battle preparations.  
  
“He is tiny,” Thor noted, when the toothless mouth had finally snapped shut and settled into a wavering pout. “And loud.”  
  
“That he is,” Frigga agreed, skin pale and eyes shaded with lost sleep, yet she wore her new-found happiness like jewelry. “And he is also the reason I called for you. Thor, meet your younger brother, Loki.”  
  
“My brother?”  
  
“Yes, yours to look after and protect.”  
  
Thor frowned down at the tiny baby in his mother's lap, with its wrinkled face, huge green eyes and tufts of black hair. Not sure what to make of that, he poked its bare feet, that stuck out of the lime-colored blanket.  
  
Little Loki giggled and tried to reach for him, starting a back and forth of waving limbs. In the end, Thor surrendered a finger Loki clung to with surprising strength, making something warm bubble up in his chest.  
  
“He is mine?”  
  
“He is not a toy.” Frigga laughed softly, relieved that the first meeting had gone well and content to now deal with the endless stream of questions that would surely follow. “And if he is yours, than you are just as much his.”  
  
With the benefit of hindsight, those words held the weight of prophecy.


	3. Tales of Blood and War

“Tell us again how you bested the Frost Giants in the Third Uprising,” Thor begged, sitting together with Loki at Odin's feet, eyes big and gleaming. “Please, Father.”  
  
The fire crackled merrily, as all those living in the realm of Asgard settled to spent their evening together, mead and conversations flowing freely. Occupied with his duties by day, it had become a beloved tradition, for the Allfather to spent these hours with his children.  
  
“Very well. As you know, it happened when Midgard was still young...”  
  
Other than his elder brother, Loki paid the unfolding story no heed, watched the flames instead. He felt uncomfortable, hearing those tales of heroics and valor. Not that he doubted all was done for a just cause. He admired those might warriors, that followed Odin into battle.  
  
But the Frost Giants, their cowardice and vileness, how they were torn apart in sprays of blood, their bodies cast aside and hollow-eyed heads sent flying... it made his stomach churn.  
  
Thor enjoyed these over tales meant to teach and impart wisdom. He could not wait for the day his weapons training would begin, far less his chance to fight wars of his own.  
  
As so often, his wandering mind did not escape the Allfather's notice. Loki felt his gaze on him like a weight, heavy and lingering, assessing and searching. It left him tense and troubled, but a quick smile masked his feelings well.  
  
“Tell us another,” Loki pleaded. “I always liked the one about Midgard's creation best.”


	4. Summertime Sadness

“You look like a ghost.”

Thor forced a smile but his voice wavered, and he could not help but pace at his brother's bedside, wearing a groove into the rich carpet. Loki looked small and fragile, dwarfed by the blankets and pillows piled up around him.

“Go away.”

It didn't sound haughty but miserable, nasal and croaking, like a dying breath. Loki was sweating profusely, so much so he felt as if he were melting, but on fire at the same time. Breathing became more difficult by the hour.

His suffering was on par with his families, all the more in the small hours of the night, when Loki was insensate to all around him, and the fear for his life was thick in the air.

“If that is what you truly want,” Thor agreed easily. “But I brought this and thought you might enjoy me reading it to you.”

Loki wished to sigh, but feared another coughing fit. “You'll be bored and fall asleep within minutes.”

“Will not.”

Thor was stubborn and determined to endure, even though the magical thesis did indeed look horribly dull and too complicated for his liking. Still, he knew Loki had waited to get his hands on the thick tome for months now, and also that his company was appreciated, no matter that Loki would never admit it.

“Fine. Stay. Have it your way.”

That summer passed maddeningly slow, with the first signs of autumn finally bringing relief. The healers were at a loss, and remained so for the next five centuries. From there on after the annual sickness vanished, like something Loki had outgrown.


	5. Explorers

“I know he is your brother and that you adore him,” Sif stated matter of fact, her scrunched up nose leaving no doubt as to what she thought about that. “But does he truly need to come with us? I mean, every single time? He slows us down.”  
  
“Loki asked to come,” Thor stated calmly, not watching her but Loki, who had trouble climbing after them, but seemed determined to not run back home. “I will hear no more of this.”  
  
“But --”  
  
“Let it go, Sif,” Fandral chimed in with a tired yet easy grin, his golden hair dark with sweat. “I'm exhausted too. Besides, what will we do without Loki's magic if there really is a wild boar?”  
  
Sif sniffed. “His magic is only good enough to dye someones hair blue while they sleep.”  
  
Fandral snickered. “Are you still angry about that?”  
  
“The guards would have never allowed us to enter if there were any real danger,” Hogun, sensible as always, pointed out.  
  
Right that moment a pale hand appeared over the crag's edge, and was instantly grabbed by Thor, who pulled Loki up with no trouble. Trying to be subtle about it he still received a glare as he checked for injuries worse than scraped palms.  
  
“Apologies,” Loki forced out between too quick and shallow breaths, “for having kept you waiting.”  
  
“You know I will always wait for you.”  
  
Sif again wrinkled her cute button nose in disgust, while Fandral burst out laughing. Loki looked rather pained himself, if also amused and a little flushed from something other than exertion.  
  
Thor shot them an irritated look. “What?”  
  
“Oh, nothing. Fair maiden love to hear such sweet nothings.”  
  
It all went rather downhill from there. Suffice to say that Sif was not the only one to return from this adventure with blue hair. Also, no wild boar would ever wander in Lady Iðunn's garden, but children may dream.


	6. The Sun, the Moon

Thor and Loki grew up but never apart, only ever closer, even though they seemed so different, like opposing forces.  
  
Thor was soon hailed as the golden prince of Asgard, a mighty warrior second to none, with brawn and brute force, but also a kind heart, that won him the favor of the masses. He was born to lead, and inspired others to follow him, steadfast and loyal.  
  
He enjoyed the feasts and his weapons training, and was now more likely to depart on adventures of his own than listen to old tales. Never far from his side were the Warrior's Three and the Lady Sif.  
  
Loki too was always close by, lingering in the shadows. If he was not ensnared in his magical studies and books, it was his silver tongue that held others captive, or just as often flayed them alive. He had become a mage of powers no foe had yet managed to test to their limit, and also adapt with throwing knives.  
  
He did neither lead nor follow, guided instead, made others adopt his ideas as their own. His talents were not lauded, thought to be for womenfolk, yet he had no desire to win the hearts of Asgard's people.  
  
Thor's already belonged to him and thus Loki was quite content.


	7. The Truth

It had seemed a good idea, back in the safety of his rooms in Asgard. Loki had argued, been the voice of reason, as he always was when a plan was not of his own making.  
  
“Less remorse and more fighting!” Loki shouted, one of his knives piercing right through the eye of a Frost Giant. “You can fall to your knees and apologize later!”  
  
“Aye, let's end this quickly!”  
  
Mjölnir carved a path through the advancing warriors, hulking and scarred figures with weapons of ice growing from their hands. They howled in a language the Alltongue failed to catch, their focus on Loki.  
  
Thor moved quickly, to cover and support, and they fell into the easy rhythm of battle, back to back, with adrenaline and bloodlust casting their surroundings in sharp relief.  
  
“Loki!” Thor roared, seeing his brother flinch away from the burn of a Frost Giant's touch. “Brother!”  
  
Suddenly the icy landscape fell away in a burst of light that tinted everything a vibrant green, and Thor felt nauseous as his body was ripped from one realm and cast out into another.  
  
Paying his own discomfort no heed, even as Asgard's meadows tilted and rocked dangerously underneath his feet, Thor moved to where Loki stood rigid, staring down at his arm as if in shock.  
  
“Loki, let me see.”  
  
The pale skin was unblemished, not eaten away like it should have been, but his elation was short lived. Instead, like parchment overflowing with ink, blue spread out from Loki's wrist, crawling up his arm and down towards his fingertips.  
  
Darker lines soon appeared, strange markings, faintly reminiscent of runes, and as Loki finally looked up Thor saw his eyes were crimson, pupils blown wide with something that was not quite fear.  
  
“Well,” Loki said, voice strangled yet oddly calm and accepting, “that explains a lot.”  
  
XXX  
  
“All my younger years I listened to bedtime stories that cast my blood-kin as the villains. Monsters and cowards.”  
  
Thor felt worn, not only from their disastrous adventure, but also the revelation that Loki was adopted. A long rant had made it clear that Loki did not appreciate being a trophy, robbed from his true home, no matter the circumstances, nor to be a bargaining chip to establish a lasting peace between Asgard and Jotunheim.  
  
Of course he had lost no word over the fact that he felt hurt by the secrecy, his trust shaken, and uncertain as to his standing, as a lone Frost Giant amongst Asgardians.  
  
“I am sure Mother and Father only meant to avoid you feeling different.”  
  
Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow. “But I always did.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Loki's gaze turned softer then, seeing Thor all subdued. “Well, with you around, it was not too bad.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
A slow smile stretched Loki's lips, revealing sharp and pointy teeth. “My needs are few.”  
  
Glaring proved ineffective in the face of Loki's laughter, even more so with his skin gleaming in myriad shades of blue, touched by the rising sun.  
  
Beautiful, Thor thought, not for the first time, and held his breath to let the moment pass.  
  
XXX  
  
“This is your plan?” Thor asked dubiously. “To do nothing?”  
  
Crimson eyes narrowed at him. “Do you doubt that I am a well-adjusted member of Asgardian society? Would you prefer I plot and scheme to get my hands on either throne I have a right to? Steal yours? Lay waste to our home? Denounce that my true mother will always be Frigga?”  
  
“I suspect where the Allfather is concerned you have no such qualms.”  
  
“True. I am angry. I would even go so far as to claim it is my right.” Loki shrugged. “But for now, I am content to wait. Your coronation draws near. It is not too far-fetched to think that Father will reveal my true heritage then. He could not have hoped to hide it forever.”  
  
“Very well. I will follow your lead in this matter.”  
  
“But...?”  
  
Thor stepped closer and pulled Loki into a hug. “I do know what ugly thing your anger will turn into, if left to simmer.”  
  
“Really, why am I the one called dramatic?” Loki rolled his eyes, which did not stop him from shifting closer. “I am being sincere. For now, all I intend to do is wait.”  
  
“Your word is enough for me.”  
  
Did it matter who then moved first? Either way it turned into a kiss.


	8. My Skin

Thor kissed the palm of his hand, chapped lips, warm breath and rough stubble. His eyes were soft, the gesture a token of intimacy and trust.  
  
Any other would have burned, the touch like poison, but Loki's will kept any harm at bay. He smiled up at Thor, lying in a nest of furs, body languid in the aftermath of the night they had spent together.  
  
“Blue suits you.”  
  
From anyone else it would have been an awkward and blunt statement, perhaps even one used to wound. But Loki knew better, heard a simple truth spoken, and open affection.  
  
“Don't forget Gungnir, Your Majesty.”


End file.
